Make You Love Me
by caffeineaddict13
Summary: Her words are clipped and quick, but he hears them. “No more than me.” J/B oneshot.


**A/N: **Bella goes to see Jacob before the wedding and the change and whatever else. Not new, but something all the same.

--

Seeing her leave—really leave, for the last time—hurts more than he thought (hoped, longed, prayed) it would.

At first he's not sure whether he's angry or overjoyed that she came to say goodbye. His heart leaps despite himself, but this heated circle that they travel never seems to end. Jacob is sick of goodbyes—sick of finishes and bittersweet hugs and broken hearts. He is sick of not knowing whether the one he loves will be dead the next time he sees her (and most of all, completely and utterly sick of the fact that he isn't sure that he won't still love her when she's gone).

But in the end the tear-stained face and big brown eyes wear him out, and the hard smile that doesn't belong to her spreads across his face, contorting his too-wise features.

He doesn't know what to say but it's okay, because his silence is response enough. He shouldn't have to be the one to speak first; even though he is bright and caring Jacob, this is her show to run and he is going to wait for her to start.

When they get uncomfortable with the silence and she can no longer wring her hands, she lets out a breath to begin.

"I…"

Jacob would roll his eyes if it weren't so fucking depressing. Bella has never been one with words, but he knows that she can do better than _that_.

Apparently she sees this because she coughs and looks up at him again. "Okay, take two."

He lets the small grin break out over his red-brown skin and she smiles back. For a second, it's like they are back in the days of whining about schoolwork and trading ages in between motorcycle rides. She bites her lip and brings him back to reality.

"I guess you know why I'm here," she mumbles, before wincing in anticipation of his retort.

He surprises her by looking away and speaking softly. "Yeah."

"Jake…" she sighs, and he imagines the look on her face because it still hurts too much to actually see. "I wish things didn't have to be this way."

He half-grunts, half-laughs, and it's a frustrated, shattered sound that makes her mouth twitch downward and both hearts skip a beat. "I've wished for a lot of things, honey," he remarks. The endearment is harsh on his tongue. "But getting a fairy godmother is the one myth that isn't real."

He leans against the car door of the rabbit, still avoiding her gaze. She follows his movement and her voice is quiet when she murmurs, "What about stars?"

He shrugs. "What about them?"

"You know," she whispers. He can feel her eyes on his face, burning trails without even touching him. "'Wish I may, wish I might…'" she trails off, and he repeats the rest of the nursery rhyme in his head. "Aren't those supposed to come true?"

"I stare at the constellations every night, Bells, and hope that a meteor will hit me, just so I can get this pain to stop. Yesterday I read in the newspaper that a couple died in a house fire and instead of feeling bad, I was jealous. Stars don't have any more power than wishes do."

It's quiet for a moment and he counts her breaths, saving them for when he can't anymore.

Finally: "I'm sorry."

"Sure, sure," he responds, running a hand through his long hair. He picks out a twig and wonders vaguely how long it's been since he's really washed it.

She shakes her head. "Say _something_, Jake."

"I thought I just did," he bites back.

"You know what I mean."

He's starting to get mad now, and even though it's nothing new he still sees flames behind his eyes. "Look, what do you want me to say, Bella? Apology accepted? You're forgiven? We'll still be friends?" he chuckles bitterly at the last one. "Well, fine. I forgive you. And I'm sorry, too, but we _can't_ be friends."

He finally looks at her and she's staring back. "Why not?" she asks, and it's such a simple-minded question he has to bite back the laugh. She can see it in his face and starts talking again. "I'm still gonna be _me_, Jacob. Still your Bells. I might not blush or trip or bleed, but who really needs all that anyway?"

Jacob rolls his dark eyes. "I _like_ that you turn red when I tell you you're pretty. That I get to catch you when you fall. I like patching up your cuts, too, but all of that isn't what makes me love you."

He reaches his big hand over and takes hers; places two long fingers over her pulse. "Do you feel that, Bells?" She nods carefully. "How can I be with you when that's gone? How will I be able to stand it when I can't listen to your heartbeat or count the flecks of amber in your eyes? How can I be best friends with my enemy?"

He wraps her small hand in his and tightens his grip. His head finds it's way onto her lap and he looks so much like a child that it almost scares her. "Do you know how much this hurts?" he whispers roughly. His voice is cracked and uneven, and she sees a glimpse of herself from so long ago, before this beautiful boy saved her. When she doesn't answer: "Do you know how much I love you?"

Her words are clipped and quick, but he hears them. "No more than me."

He laughs hoarsely, the sound reverberating onto her skin. "Oh, honey," he says, shaking his head. "You have no idea, do you?"

She's frustrated all of a sudden and she puts her hands around his head, jerks him roughly upwards until they are face to face. "You think this isn't hurting me, too?" she snaps, her eyes thin slits. "You think I don't spend every waking minute, and most unconscious ones, going over all the reasons I'm making the wrong choice?" He shrugs. She looks at him incredulously and shakes her head. "Do you honestly believe I don't _love_ you, Jacob?"

He stares at her, his red-rimmed eyes betraying his harsh tone. "Not _enough_," he says. "Never _enough_."

She lets her head drop to his shoulder and this time he is the one comforting her.

"I want to _live_," she whispers.

He swallows and isn't sure whether he's hearing right.

"I want to buy a white house and have children or grow old and get a thousand cats. I want to get drunk when it's legal and get cut cooking dinner for Thanksgiving. Jake, I want to have a _life_."

This time he's sure and he lifts her head up. "Then stay," he tells her.

"I…I can't, Jacob, you know that. The Volturi and the wedding and Edw—"

"I can protect you and…they'll protect you," he takes both her hands and leans his forehead against hers and then he is falling into her eyes. "You _know_ that, Bells. And you can _live_. With me. You can."

She looks at him and they are close, so close, and he takes the step and presses his lips against hers and even though it is their third kiss it feels like their first—it isn't passion but it's slow and burning and real; it isn't lust but it's need and want and _love_, and it's being able to get wrinkles and have children or puppies or whatever-the-fuck-else; it's not careful and it's not forever but it's _enough_. For once, it's _everything_.

And he can't know how long it will last, but he doesn't want too, either. Because if his heart breaks again tomorrow he will remember what it feels like to _live_.

And that's more than anyone can ask for.

--

**END**


End file.
